Not to be mistaken for Love
by Don'tKnowWhatToSay
Summary: Will Harry figure out what's missing when he's kissing Ginny? And will Draco realise that there might be more to his relationship with Harry than anger and despise? Harry/Draco
1. Chapter 1

**First attempt on Draco/Harry.. I'm actually quite pleased with it myself, but please please let me know what you think :) This is chapter 1 xD (obviously (: )**

**Disclaimer: I don't own.. anything.. /weep**

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If anyone were to ask Draco Malfoy to describe what he thought of Harry Potter in only a few words, 'courageous' would certainly not have been mentioned. Neither would 'brave' or 'bold' or any other words associated with the aforementioned ones. Words like 'kind' or 'helpful' would not even have been considered, and 'friend' would most likely have been punished with a great deal of pain. But perhaps 'sexy' or 'fiery' could've crossed his mind. Not that he'd ever admit it, nope, not in a quadrillion years, of course. But it would've been there, in the back of his dark thoughts.

Because to Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter was an odd symbol resembling his total opposite. And during the last few weeks, the blonde had begun to realise that perhaps the Muggle saying 'Opposites attract' had something to it. Either way, Draco was beginning to look at Harry Potter in a completely different light.

Not in those pink lights people usually describes as 'love'. Oh no, _definitely _not 'love'. The word 'love' made Draco Malfoy laugh.

So, no, not a pink light.

Perhaps just a little bit less black.

Strolling down the many hallways paved with stones of black granite, Draco Malfoy was trying to figure out, what_ exactly_ his feelings towards Potter were. He knew what he felt about the filthy Mudblood, always showing off and _pretending_ to be much smarter than everybody else. He also knew that he'd never willingly breathe the same air as the ignorant Weasley.

But as for Potter, Draco felt like he was hitting his head against a wall. A wall made of very tough bricks. He knew that he was supposed to despise him, hate him, and want to jump around on his dead corpse. But he couldn't bring himself to feel this. It was as if his emotions were a large, grey mist, a mist he constantly tried to catch with his bare hands; but it slipped away every single time.

Letting out a sigh, Draco finally reached the goal of his long journey: The Room of Requirement. He closed his eyes and thought about what he needed most of the time, but then he realised that he did not want the usual room filled with old, stored up junk. What he needed at the moment was a sanctuary, a place he knew nobody else would find. But nonetheless, Draco had a serious amount of fixing in front of him; the Vanishing Cabinet had to be done in time.

As the door appeared, Draco quickly scanned his surroundings to make sure that he was alone before opening it and gliding through the narrow crevice between the stonewall and the wooden door.

-

A few meters away, just around the corner, Harry Potter was finding himself exhaling heavily, not knowing he had been holding his breath for this long. As soon as the door to the Room of Requirement slammed shut, Harry knew that he had nothing more to do at this place. He couldn't find any confirmation, but still, he was sure that the tall, slim shade entering the room had been Draco Malfoy. And deep within his guts, he felt quite annoyed that the Slytherin had taken the liberty of occupying _his_ room, _his_ haven, _his_ place to think when the buzzing atmosphere at the Gryffindor common room became too much.

He was also somewhat happy that it was Draco Malfoy who had entered the room, even though he'd walked all the way down there to enter it himself.

This was, of course, because Harry knew that if Draco was in _his_ room he'd at least know where he was. It had absolutely nothing to do with the young Potter thinking that if anyone had to disturb his sanctuary, he was glad it was Malfoy. Not at all. Because Malfoy was an unnecessary mark on his Marauder's Map, a person Hogwarts would be better off without. A person Harry would be better off not knowing. Indeed.

Speaking of the Marauder's Map, Harry was fumbling around in his pockets to find that exact old piece of parchment. He had to make sure that Filch was not around, or any other teacher for that matter. Getting caught whilst sneaking around in the hallways would not be a great idea. He'd experienced that more than enough times already.

Pulling forth the Map, Harry almost inaudibly whispered, "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good" and tapped it lightly with the tip of his wand. Slowly, the black ink started to spread across the paper, drawing a delicate web of thin lines. Black dots appeared and showed the location of every student, of which the main part was sleeping in their dormitories. But a few dots were moving around the hallways. Harry quickly noticed 'Argus Filch', the grumpy and very despised caretaker of Hogwarts, moving slowly from one end of his office to the other, the end in which Harry knew his bed was placed. He imagined the aged man in fluffy, pink slippers and suppressed a chuckle. At least he wasn't strutting about in the corridors.

Harry also, to his great surprise, noticed that 'Albus Dumbledore' and 'Minerva McGonagall' were both marked with black dots in the Headmaster's office. He didn't want to know what was going on, and merely hoped that they were having tea as he continued to examine the map. It seemed as if nobody was around to catch Harry on his journey in the dark hallways, so the black-haired boy decided that it was time to turn in and get some sleep. He stretched his weary body and paced quickly around the corner and across the room, passing the wall where he knew the door to the Room of Requirement would appear to anybody in need of it.

As soon as said door started to appear and caught the attention of his emerald eyes, Harry froze in place. Way too late, he realised that he had left his Invisibility Cloak in his dormitory, nicely folded in his trunk. The door squeaked as it opened, allowing the young Malfoy to step out of the room and face Harry Potter, both of their faces quickly arranging into surprised masks.

-

Draco had been meandering around in a pointless pattern between endless shelves of dusty old crap that nobody wanted, not once even glancing at the Vanishing Cabinet. He couldn't get Harry Potter out of his head; it was as if the boy he couldn't stand had conquered his mind and refused to leave him alone. The black hair, the handsome body and those very, very captivating eyes...

Draco stopped his pacing to slap himself.  
"Stop thinking like that, that's sick," he said loudly, knowing that nobody else was able to hear him.

But still, the face marked by that unique scar and wearing those round glasses was stuck in his thoughts. He was supposed to hate Harry Potter, the boy had caused him nothing but misery throughout all of their years at Hogwarts. But he didn't. Not any more. Which was, of course, a completely whacked way of thinking.

In the end, Draco gave up his attempt to occupy himself and headed towards the door. He opened it, and it squeaked as it always did. Stepping outside and almost turning around to shut the door behind him, Draco heard himself gasp before he even realised why. Harry Potter, the same Harry Potter that he'd been thinking about few moments ago, was standing in front of him, staring at him with the same disbelief he knew his own eyes radiated.

-

"Oh," was all Harry could say. With a rapid motion, he shoved the Marauder's Map inside of his robes and cleared his throat. Malfoy didn't reply, didn't even think of anything as intelligent as 'oh'. He quickly slammed to door to the room behind him and stepped forward, scared breathless that Harry knew what he'd been doing (or trying to do) in there.

But in truth, all that Harry could think about was how handsome Draco Malfoy looked without that evil sneer plastered to his face. How the moonlight shining through the windows at their right side made the blonde's face seem so much more beautiful. And, of course, how much he wanted to punch himself for having these thoughts. But he figured that it would be suspicious, beating himself up in front of Malfoy for no real reason.

The other one was having very similar thoughts, the only difference being that Malfoy did not care for the moonlight. There was no way Harry could look sexier than he usually did. He realised how great the urge to kiss those soft lips really was, and instantly he tried to convince himself that he'd rather shout a curse at them. But when the lips parted so that Harry could breathe through his mouth, Draco was burning with desire. He snorted.

-

Harry accepted the snort as a way of telling that Draco wanted him out of his way – fast. So instead of starting a conversation, Harry whirled around on the ball of his foot to find the nearest exit.

Not realising that the glimpse of hatred in the other ones eyes perhaps could really be a sign of his longing, he began pacing towards the stairs that would lead him to the Gryffindor common room. He heard footsteps behind him and recognized them as Malfoy's, not that he'd know how Draco would kind of drag his feet across the floor, and he knew that the Slytherin was retreating to his own dormitory as well. This had been their first meeting without insults flying across the room, and Harry had to admit that he would've liked it to last a bit longer. Just so that he could watch Malfoy breathing or whatever he was doing. But he knew it was unrequited. To Malfoy, Harry was nothing but an obstacle blocking his path.

And what did it matter anyways? Draco was as much of a Death Eater as that scumbag Lucius Malfoy, and he'd never be anything else to Harry than a follower of Voldemort. Besides, Harry was in love with Ginny Weasley, the sister of his best friend. And things were supposed to be that way. _Right?_

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**Ow people, come on, so few reviews that I'll reward reviewers with.. uhm.. Aaaa.. a cookie? Action figure?!**


	2. Chapter 2

To Harry Potter, dreaming had almost always been an unpleasant thing. When he was younger, Harry used to dream about flashes of green light from the night his parents were brutally murdered by Lord Voldemort. About a year ago, Harry had discovered that most of his dreams were truly a connection to the exact same dark wizard's thoughts, linking their minds together.

But the dream he had this night was not in any way unpleasant. In fact, he knew he'd be kind of sad when it ended. Because he was aware all along that it was a dream. Draco Malfoy would never act polite, even less _friendly_ towards him, and he'd never just sit and talk to his nemesis as peacefully as they did underneath that huge oak tree. They were sharing thoughts, memories, talking about everything and anything that came to their minds. Like old friends. But there was more to it. Harry stretched his arm to tug a strand of Malfoy's blonde hair behind his ear where he felt it belonged. As soon as his hand gently touched Malfoy's, his eyes flew open and they stared unblinkingly into the ceiling above him.

'_What_ is going on?' was the first question Harry asked himself, followed by several others very similar to it. He pulled the sheets aside and swung his legs over the side of his bed, landing on the ice-cold floor. He looked around, only to find Ron snoring heavily in the bed next to him. Silently, he padded across the floor and found a mirror placed at Dead Thomas' nightstand.

His raven hair was a big mess, tousled and undone; yet, it still had that certain Potter-charm to it. He realised that he'd been sleeping with his glasses on. Although, most surprising was the fact that he was _smiling_. Smiling like something fantastic had just happened, and he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face. What was happening? This certainly couldn't be because of his dream. _Oh God__**, **_Harry thought to himself, _I just had a dream about Malfoy._ He looked at the clock placed on his own nightstand. It was 3AM; he'd gotten nothing more than two hours of sleep. _I had to put up with Malfoy for an extra two hours?! _The more he thought about, the more horrified he was when he slowly realised that he didn't actually mind_. No, stop it!_ He chided himself, trying and failing to convince himself that this dream-thing was a onetime incident. It would never happen again.

Rummaging through his trunk, he pulled out his invisibility cloak, trying to make as little noise as possible. Harry left the dormitory, walked down the stairs and into the common room. As his eyes slowly started to notice the silhouettes of chairs and couches in front of the fireplace, he found a path between them. Almost trembling, he just in time managed to save himself from a massive headache by holding on to a chair. Or what he thought was a chair until it suddenly moved beneath his hand.

"Who's there?" a low, sleepy voice asked. Harry bit his lower lip. _Shit._

"I'm the Gryffindor fairy," he replied, making it up as he went on. "I'm here to... tell you that you must remember to study for Transfiguration."

The person in the chair seemed to relax and fall back to sleep, and Harry clutched his hand close to his chest before exiting the room through the portrait hole.

-

It took Draco Malfoy two hours to realise he wouldn't be able to sleep. His thoughts kept circulating around his meeting with Potter in front of the Room of Requirement, and said thoughts were not filled with ways of plotting Potter's demise. No, he was, to his utter horror, thinking about Potter's lips, his skin, his hair and his scar, and actually every part of him. He shook his head in denial and jumped agilely out of bed, onto his feet. Malfoys did not think like this, it was outrageous. He'd have to get over it. Fast.

Crabbe, in the bed next to Malfoy's, and Goyle, in the bed next to Crabbe's, were far away in dreamland and didn't hear Draco leaving the dormitory, his back straight and his chin held high.

Few moments later, when leaving the common room on his bare feet, he started regretting that he didn't wear his slippers, as the floor sent chills down his spine. Surrounding him the black walks, dripping with moist, and although Draco would never tell anybody, he didn't feel very comfortable walking around in the dungeons. He hurried until he finally found himself in the regular hallways of Hogwarts, not very warm, but not as cold as the dungeon. Standing there for a moment, unsure of where he wanted to go, he considered if he should try and fix the Vanishing Cabinet as he was supposed to. There was also the possibility of going to the kitchen and grab some food, although he hated the House Elves of Hogwarts; one of them had been working for his family once. That is, until Potter had freed him. There, another reason to hate that Muggle loving maniac. But wouldn't any wizard have done the same thing? It didn't matter to Draco any more; it was long ago. He could go to the girl's bathroom on second floor and have one of his relieving conversations with the ghost of the murdered girl. But somehow, he didn't really feel like spilling his heart out, not tonight. Because, what his heart was full of tonight would make anybody laugh. He'd laugh himself if he didn't find it so strange. But Potter's face was still haunting him. Slowly, he turned around to course towards the Astronomy Tower.

-

As soon as Harry left the common room and pulled his cloak over his head, he realised that he had no place to go. Perhaps he could go to the Room of Requirement and-… No, he the last thing he needed was to be reminded of Malfoy. He started walking, deciding that he'd just follow his intuition.

Apparently, his intuition wanted him to go outside, and Harry soon found himself in front of a huge door; a closed one at that. With his cloak, it was no problem to wander around unseen, but opening doors without them squeaking and howling was a totally different thing. So he sighed and turned around, only to see a broom cup next to the huge stair. A sudden idea started to shape itself. Would he get expelled if they caught him outside, flying around on his broom in the middle of the night? Probably not, but they wouldn't be happy. _Well_, Harry thought while feeling courageous,_ I am after all a Potter. And I need air. _

-

Draco was sitting on the window ledge in the Astronomy Tower, silently watching the Lake. From where he sat, he could practically see all of Hogwarts' territory, but something about the Lake always calmed him down. During the past two months since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, Draco had been looking for peace everywhere he went. It was needed, so that he wouldn't freak out about the mission The Dark Lord had placed on his shoulders. Not that he didn't anyways, of course, but serenity and peace would calm it down a bit.

It was raining outside, pouring down, actually. Rain drops, carried by the harsh wind, slammed against Draco's face and tousled his hair. The moon was shining with a combination of gold and silver light, but it was hidden behind awful, grey clouds.

Looked around, his glance stopped at the Gryffindor Tower. Why? He had no idea, or he just didn't want to acknowledge it. But nonetheless, he was staring at it, almost hoping to see a certain person waving at him. He finally decided that it was because Harry Potter was the only thing in his life remaining the same: Potter would always be as big a pain in the ass as he had been at the beginning, and Draco needed something he could hold on to. Too bad for both of them that Harry ended up being this 'something'.

A movement caught his attention. Someone or something had just left the Gryffindor Tower a second ago, and Draco squeezed his eyes together to find out what it had been. A small dot was flying across the skies, hardly noticeable through all the rain. But the brief moments, in which the clouds would break apart, allowing the moon to shine in all its glory, provided enough light for the young blonde to see that there was indeed _something_. And it was getting closer to _his_ Astronomy Tower.

-

Harry knew where he wanted to go. As soon as he'd jumped on his broom and flown out the window, his intuition once again took over and guided him in the right direction. To his surprise, the light was already on in the Astronomy Tower. He leaned forward on his broom, coursing for the window, but he realised that someone was sitting there. Approaching in a slower tempo, he thought he saw a glimpse of blonde hair. _No way. No freaking way._

He reached the ledge, and his thoughts were confirmed. Malfoy was occupying _his _peaceful spot for the second time that night.

"Malfoy," he said, this time finding it slightly easier to speak.

"Potter," Draco replied, followed by a half-hearted sneer.

Draco was talking to him like they were best friends. Telling him how horrible things could get around his house. Harry reached out to tug a strand of Malfoy's beautiful hair away from his face and behind his ear…

Harry shook his head, ignoring the dream that kept bumping against the inside of his head. But he didn't feel like arguing with Malfoy. Breathing in a huge mouthful of the fresh, cold air, he did something he'd never done in his life.

"Hi," he said, nervous that Malfoy would laugh and point fingers at him. But he didn't; instead, the blonde Slytherin looked at his hands.

"Hi," he muttered as reply. Harry felt happy, victorious. Still hanging in the air on his broom, he studied Malfoy's face and frowned.  
"You've been crying, Malfoy?" He still couldn't bring himself to call Draco by his first name.

Draco glanced briefly at Harry before wiping away the tears he hadn't known was there. Tears weren't rare to him any longer, but he definitely didn't want Potter to see them.  
"No. Besides, what makes you think that it's any of your business anyways?"

"Well, why are your eyes swollen?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, and Harry didn't really know what to do. Perhaps Malfoy wanted to pick a fight after all. He leaped off his broom, landing at the window ledge next to Draco. For a short second he thought of Ginny Weasley, but she disappeared just as fast.

Draco scooted almost an almost unnoticeably bit away from him.

Neither one of them spoke for some time; Harry was afraid that he'd say something wrong, causing Malfoy to resume being cruel and annoying, and Draco felt way too embarrassed that Harry had seen his tears. So they just sat there, looking at the moon.

Remembering how beautiful Malfoy looked in the moonlight, Harry found himself staring at the blonde, and said blonde noticed this too.

"What are you staring at, Potter?"

Harry didn't pay any attention to the insult; he was way too busy preventing himself to reach out and tug that annoying strand of hair behind Malfoy's ear, just like he'd done in his dream. Suddenly, he couldn't resist it any more, and he reached out his hand. His fingers connected with Malfoy's skin, and both of them were sure they'd just been electrocuted.

"What do you think you're doing?" the Slytherin asked, but he didn't shoo Harry off or push him away as he'd feared. Wanting to never let go, Harry considered how long he could sit like that without his usual Nemesis would do something. Still, nothing happened. Malfoy stared into the green eyes in front of him, wondering why this was so pleasant. Suddenly he shook his head and got on his feet.

"I got to go, Potter," he said, snorting and fumbling with his robe, forgetting that he was the proud son of Lucius Malfoy. Right now, he was just embarrassed.

"Yeah, me too," Harry replied absently. What was it about this boy that Ginny didn't have?

Draco almost raised his hand to wave, but he restrained. Turning around on the ball of his heels, he didn't even say goodbye as he left the Astronomy Tower.

Harry stared, almost longing, at the closed door for a few seconds before mounting his broom for the second time that night.

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**Once again, cookies and action figures in exchange for reviews :O Wouldn't want to miss that, would we?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here it is, chapter 3. Sorry bout the rather slow update (: Please let me know what you think anyways though! :D**

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Draco Malfoy was sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, slowly eating his regular breakfast consisting of a bagel and a glass of orange juice with a gloomy expression.

Every student at aforementioned table had noticed that something about him was different. Nothing that a person passing him on the street would notice, but the people with whom he spent almost every day knew it had happened; he wasn't smirking. Possibly, this would not seem as a gigantic difference to the untrained eye, but Draco Malfoy was famous for his smirk. To be honest, smirking was kind of his trademark.

Regardless of his mood, Draco would always have a smirk plastered to his face, no matter if it was an angry one, an annoyed one or a devilish one.

Therefore, every student with a minor bit of common sense stayed out of his way, hardly looking at him and even less talking to him. But one of the first year boys felt audacious, or stupid, depending on one's point of view, enough to ask him to pass the milk. In return, he received a lesson he wouldn't forget in any nearby future: Malfoy simply opened the carton and poured the white liquid over the young boys hair, watching it drenching his robes. As result, the blond earned an hour of detention with professor McGonagall the following Monday evening.

"Peachy, just peachy," Draco mumbled sarcastically, trying in vain to smirk devilish at the sobbing boy. Leaving the empty juice glass and a half-eaten bagel behind, he decided he'd rather spend his day in the Slytherin common room and got up from his seat. He turned around on his heels and, to his utter annoyance, ended up staring directly at the happy students surrounding the Gryffindor Table. Not that they returned his burning glare, they were way too busy throwing around with their red and yellow scarves. But they weren't the only ones; the Hufflepuffs were wearing their usual yellow and black scarves as well, and some of them also wore ridiculous hats. Even the Ravenclaws, too proud of themselves to wear silly headpieces, had chosen their preferred sides, carrying red or yellow flags and either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff scarves.

_Silly gits,_ Draco thought mockingly, trying to figure out why they were all dressed up like that. In fact, he realised, only the Slytherins were acting like their usual selves.

_What's going on?_

And then he remembered: Today was the day of the quidditch match people had been talking about for weeks, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff.

Shaking his head all the way, Draco hastily ran out the doors, through the hallways and down the dungeon, all the way to Slytherin's common room. For once, the cold and the moist didn't bother him. He had a plan, and so, he'd finally found a reason to smirk once again.

You see, the young Malfoy had spent all of his early morning speculating over how he'd passed his night: On a window ledge with _Potter_. He wasn't quite sure how that'd happened, but one thing was certain: Potter had seen him crying. Malfoy kept telling himself that he'd only allowed the situation to occur because he was lonely, and Har- _Potter _had miraculously appeared on his broom. At that time, he'd embraced anybody (perhaps except the annoying Mudblood and the filthy blood traitor, anyone but _them._) He didn't want to accept the fact that he'd felt gratitude when Harr- _POTTER!_ showed up.

Also, he just couldn't be sure what Potter was thinking. _He's probably not thinking about it at all_… _But if he _was_ thinking.. Then he'd perhaps think we're all.. touchy-feely friends now. No way._

And then he'd had one of his brilliant ideas, which he was now trying to execute. Rummaging through his trunk with all of his blood rushing to his brain, he eventually had to realise the one flaw in his great plan: He did not own a Hufflepuff scarf, so he couldn't show Potter that they still weren't friends by cheering for the other team. _Damn it._

-

"Wha'ou'ay?" Ron asked, his mouth open and full of almost-chewed toast. Hermione looked at him with disgust painted all over her face. The redhead swallowed his chunk of bread and slowly repeated his words:  
"What did you say?"

The girl, still not looking overly impressed by her red-haired friend, turned around to face Harry.

"What I was trying to say," she said for the second time, "was that you should really eat, Harry. The game's in less than an hour, come on."

Harry didn't pay a great deal of attention to her, as he was way too busy staring after Malfoy, who was currently on his way towards the exit, away from the rest of the Slytherins. Not even his two baboons were following him.

The two boys, the blond Slytherin and his complete opposite being the black haired Gryffindor next to him, were sitting on the window ledge in silence. Not the devastating, mocking silence that usually filled the air between them, but an almost comfortable one. Not a single word was being exchanged; they just sat there, both gazing at the sky.

"Harry? Harry!" Hermione was waving her hand in front of his face with a stern movement, forcing him back to the reality and out of his own head, occupied by the pleasant memories of last night. Ron was still eagerly chewing on his piece of bread, but their female friend seemed to grow more impatient with every passing second.

"Going to answer my question?" Her voice was cool, perfectly matching the annoyed glimpse in her brown eyes. Her mane of just as brown hair, which usually was allowed to cascade around her shoulders, was held in a ponytail by a scrunchy.

"Huh, what question?" Harry grunted, unable to forget his flashback.

"Done. Your. Transfiguration. Homework?"

As reply, Harry shook his head and smiled a tad sheepishly.

"Oh Snitch, I forgot that…"

"Oh _Snitch_?" Hermione asked, screwing up her eyes and studying his face.

"Yeah, you know, as a replacement for.. Bah, never mind."

His friend rolled her eyes and arose from her chair.

"I'll see you two at the quidditch game," she shouted, waved and then started to walk towards the huge door.

"What's her problem?" Harry asked Ron as soon as Hermione had left the Great Hall.

"What? Problem? No, she had to go to the library," the redhead replied, surprisingly still stuffing his face with food.

Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter were standing a few feet away from the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch team.

"Perhaps I should go talk to them," Harry mumbled nervously. It was the second match of the year, the second match since he became Captain of the team, and the second match since Ron had joined them. His knees felt very similar to jelly.

"About what?" Ron asked grinningly, earning an eye-roll from his sister. "Well, I mean, everyone's already sure we're going to win. No doubt."

Harry opened his dry mouth and closed it again, then tried to occupy himself by tugging his scarf under his cloak. The cold was quite intense, biting it's teeth into every inch of bare skin. Ginny shooed Ron off with a dismissing wave of her hand before throwing herself around Harry's covered up neck.

"Don't worry about it, we're going to beat them," she laughed towards his lips as she kissed him. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to force himself into feeling what he knew every teenage boy in his position would feel. It just wasn't there.

"Ginny, I.. you know, we'd better get going. No matter what Ron says, I'll probably have to say _something _before we go out there. Last minute nerves, you know." He gently let go of her and took a step backwards. She looked disappointed.

"Harry, come on!" Katie Bell's voice brought an end to the unbearable pain it was to know he'd hurt Ginny. Relieved that he had an excuse to leave, Harry pointed over his shoulder.

"I.. yeah, we should get going."

Several minutes of pep-up talks later, Harry finally felt ready to step onto the field among the rest of his team. As the wooden doors opened and they marched out there in a straight line, he couldn't help but realise that he was scanning the crowd for a certain face.

_God, no._

He mounted his broom, swiftly followed by the six people behind him. Madam Hooch was talking for what seemed like ages, explaining the rules of the game. Then the sharp sound from her whistle could be heard miles away, as she threw the Quaffle into the air and allowed to game to begin.

Harry's senses were at their best. He took a deep breath, allowing himself to block out the noise from the spectators and the thirteen other people flying around on their brooms. The Hufflepuff seeker seemed eager to prove himself worthy by catching the snitch before the great Harry Potter got the chance; he kept flying from one end of the field to the other. Harry knew better; he was observing every inch of it from his place a bit above the rest, ignoring the disappointment when Hufflepuff scored the first goal of the match, and hardly cheering when Gryffindor evened it out.

Something golden caught his attention and he turned around, only to discover that it had been Malfoy's hair reflecting the sun.

_Yay, Malfoy's here! 'Yay'? Merlin, Harry, get a grip!_

He scrunched his eyes together. What on earth was Malfoy doing?

The Slytherin was, as the rest of his house, wearing no colours revealing whose side he was on, but it appeared as if he was trying to steal a yellow scarf from a young boy with honey coloured hair.

Wait, was Malfoy trying to _choke_ that poor boy? Harry was fighting the urge of flying down there and find out what was going on. Malfoy had a tight grasp around the black and yellow scarf around the boy's neck, but the smaller one didn't let go of it willingly. Yet, in the end, the Slytherin won their battle. He threw the fabric around his own slim neck and started to jump around maniacally. Harry looked away. Everybody else seemed to be way too busy with the game to notice Malfoy, but the Gryffindor seeker couldn't really concentrate. Why was he cheering for Hufflepuff? Couldn't he at least just remain as neutral as the rest of his stupid, neutral friends? Harry knew that he shouldn't care. If it hadn't been for the previous night, he probably wouldn't have thought too much about it. But now, he had to admit that it hurt. Badly.

Noticing a sudden vibration in the air next to his ear distracted him from his depressed thoughts. He absently stretched out his hand, feeling the Snitch's wings brush against the tip of his fingers. _The Snitch!_

Turning his head, he caught a glimpse of the shiny little ball with flapping wings, and in a matter of a second, he started chasing it. It was fast, but Harry was too determined to catch it. When the Hufflepuff seeker realised what Harry was doing, his opponent had already stretched his arm in its full length and caught the Snitch, ending the game, bringing home victory to Gryffindor once again.

The crowd was stomping, clapping, cheering and throwing around with every removable piece of clothes. Harry didn't care; all he wanted to see was Malfoy's reaction. But Malfoy wasn't among the audience anymore.

"Fantastic, Harry, absolutely marvellous!" shouted Ron from his position in front of the goal. Landing on his feet, Harry realised that Ginny was jumping off of her broom behind him. She didn't say anything; she just had a huge smile plastered to her face. For the second time that day, Harry's redheaded girlfriend threw her arms around his neck, and for the second time that day, Harry realised that it didn't make him nearly as happy as it used to. Something was missing.


	4. Chapter 4

"Harry, you _are_ aware that you've got Transfiguration in less than thirty minutes, right?" Hermione's razor-sharp voice pierced the wonderful silence that occupied Harry's mind. Not even the noises of the Great Hall had been able to penetrate the imaginary bubble of thoughtfulness, but the word 'Transfiguration' had the desired effect. Hermione smiled triumphantly, proud that she'd finally acquired Harry's attention.

"What, less than thirty? Surely, that means ninety-nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds?" Harry asked, hoping with every inch of his mind that he was right. He had to pick up his homework in the dormitory and…Oh, shoot, he'd forgotten everything about doing his Transfiguration homework. The blank pages would probably still be lying on his nightstand, totally blank, undone, just like they had the previous day.

He quickly got up from his seat at the Gryffindor table, accidentally slamming his hand against his redheaded best friend's shoulder. Ron looked up, his swollen eyes revealing that he'd been taking a quick nap.

"Transfiguration," Harry muttered while partially running towards the door. Ron let out a flood of extremely inappropriate words and pushed his plate, which had served as a pillow few moments earlier, towards Hermione before following Harry with swift footsteps.

"Grab mine as well, will you," Ron yawned from the doorframe while stretching his long-limbed body. Harry snatched a stack of parchment off of Ron's nightstand and tugged it behind his own.

"How long have we got?" he asked worriedly. His friend looked at his wrist, only to realise that he wasn't wearing a watch.

"Well, didn't 'Mione say that we had thirty minutes?"

"She said _less than_ thirty minutes, whatever that means. And I thought you'd been sleeping?"

"Tried to," Ron corrected him as they both rushed through the common room.

"Whatever. You've got some egg stuck to your forehead," Harry pointed out while pushing the portrait aside.

"Mr. Potter, Mr Weasley." Professor McGonagall's voice was the only sound to be heard in the entire classroom. _She's worse than Hermione,_ Harry thought and looked at Ron, who, for some reason, was waggling his eyebrows like a psycho.

Realising that the eyebrows were not meant for him, he turned around to identify the person who was currently occupying Ron's attention. Lavender Brown met his gaze with a confident smirk.

"You're late," McGonagall said calmly; there was no need for her to shout. Feeling rather humiliated, the two young wizards hurried to their table at the front, seating themselves and letting out two synchronized sighs. Harry threw Ron's blank papers on the table and tried to hide his own in his lap.

"Can I see those pages, Mr. Potter?"

_Damn_, why'd he thought he could hide such thing from professor McGonagall?

Pretending to be truly surprised that Harry hesitantly handed her blank parchment, the woman sighed and shook her head lightly.

"But, we had a quidditch match yesterday!" Harry whispered, not wanting the whole class to hear his rather pathetic example for an excuse.

"Oh yes, congratulations!" the professor said, clapping her hands in delight as she remembered the result of the match. "But still, Mr. Potter, you should be able to manage both quidditch _and_ your homework. And to show up for classes in time. Detention in my office tonight."

She turned around, her robes billowing her body. A few words appeared on the blackboard, written in McGonagall's tortuous handwriting. But Harry didn't read it.

"I can't _believe_ she didn't look at your papers. They were right in front of her!" he moaned. Ron shrugged with a happy smile, waving enthusiastically at Lavender behind them.

-

Draco absentmindedly scratched down a few sentences in his notebook while studying for tomorrow's Poisons class. Crabbe and Goyle were having a rather violent pillow fight in the same room, and he was sure that if he told them to be quiet one more time, his throat would dry out.

_Dried flies_, he chanted inside his head, blocking out the groaning and shouting. He didn't need another detention; having to spend his whole evening with McGonagall would be bad enough. Terrifying, even.

"Victory!"

Draco turned around and found Crabbe beating the lying Goyle with his weapon, an upholstered green pillow from an armchair in the common room. The blond sighed in annoyance and slammed his book, making sure that his two friends were aware of his anger. It seemed to work, as they both sat down on the bed they were using as a battlefield.

"What time is it?" he asked bluntly.

"I don't know," Crabbe replied, fighting off the incoming attack from his already defeated adversary.

"Then look at a watch!" Draco snapped and turned around to locate one himself. A quarter past seven.

"_Shit!_" he shouted, jumping off of his bed gracefully and dashing through the door. He had exactly fifteen minutes to make it to McGonagall's office. Not that it mattered much to him whether he kept the old witch waiting, but his dad wouldn't be happy to hear that he was late for detention. He certainly hadn't been happy about the detention part.

-

"Alright, Potter_, _if you'll keep practising this spell, I'll go get myself a cup of tea," Minerva McGonagall announced.

"But, why don't you just use that kettle over there, if I may ask?"

"Please don't," the woman replied and flashed one of her rare smiles at him. Trying to figure out where she was heading, certainly not for tea, as the kettle in the corner of the office was already full, Harry had a hard time focusing on the task he'd been given. No way he'd be able to learn an entirely new spell in one evening anyways. Besides, hadn't McGonagall been _blushing_?

The door behind him slammed open with a _loud bang _and he turned around, ready to shout at Filch that he was most certainly allowed to be in here.

But it wasn't Filch who entered the room in a rather arrogant way, holding his chin way too high and his back ridiculously straight.

"Malfoy," he greeted, cocking his head to the right. The greeting nearly made Draco tremble in surprise,and he quickly started straightening out his robes.

"Ha- Potter," the other one replied, eyes widening in frustration as he realised he'd almost called his nemesis by his first name. Harry just sat there, looking at him.

"So, the great Potter, in detention?" Draco sniggered while pulling out a chair. The Gryffindor shrugged without saying anything. Realising that his attempt to start an argument had failed, the blond decided to look around.

"What was that about?" Harry asked abruptly, placing his wand at the desk.

"What was what about?"

"Yesterday, at the quidditch match."

"Oh, that.." Draco muttered. He had desperately been trying to forget his idiotic act the previous day. He knew that he'd hurt Harry, it had practically been written all over the boy's face, and he didn't like the thought of it. The whole idea had been ridiculous, a stupid attempt to suppress the struggling feelings inside of him. Suddenly, he felt as if Goyle and Crabbe were wrestling inside his guts. Not knowing what to say, he stared blindly at the numerous books on the shelves surrounding them.

"Where's the professor?" he asked, trying to change to subject.

"She went 'for tea'," Harry replied, making it obvious that he didn't believe this statement. "Besides, you fail at avoiding questions, Draco. Why did you do it?"

Had Potter just called him by his name? A feeling of happiness overwhelmed Malfoy by the sound of Harry's calming voice pronouncing his name without even blinking. They'd never been on first names before.

"I'm not allowed to cheer for Hufflepuff?" Draco asked, a part of him still desperately trying to prove that he did _not_ fancy Harry Potter.

"No, of course you're not."

"What? Why?" The determination in Pot- _Harry_'s voice had surprised him quite a great deal.

"Because you know that I play for Gryffindor. You should cheer for us."

_What?_ The blond looked up, meeting his apparently ex-nemesis' eyes. _God,_ they were beautiful.

"I wanted to…" Draco muttered into his sleeve, letting down all of his carefully built guards. Harry's face lit up instantly, and he leaned a bit closer.

"Really?" he asked while examining the Slytherin's face.

"Absolutely…"

"Then why did you practically choke a boy to prove otherwise?"

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but he suddenly noticed how wonderfully close to him Harry was. Deciding that he'd already embarrassed himself as much as possibly, he pushed aside every thought that told him his actions were horribly wrong.

"Draco, are you g-Mmhpf!" Harry's attempt to speak was instantly silenced by Draco's soft lips pressing against his own. He felt a burning desire, a craving for more, and he intensely kissed back, tangling his fingers in the blond hair. This was how a kiss should be like, this was what had lacked at the quidditch field with Ginny. Both of them got to their feet, letting go of each other for a moment to breathe.

"I.., Erh..." Draco stuttered, but Harry didn't give him time to finish the sentence, he just pushed him backwards against one of McGonagall's shelves. Some of the books fell down, but neither one of them could care any less. The blond threw his arms around Harry's waist as his tongue asked for entrance to the other one's mouth. They stood there for a long moment, letting go of all their frustration, until Harry finally disrupted the connection.

"Holy Goblin," he panted. Draco smiled a crossing between his usual devilish smile and a new one that Harry had never seen before: A gentle one.

"What's your redheaded girlfriend going to think of this?" the Slytherin asked, equally excited and afraid. Perhaps this was just a one-time thing?

"She doesn't have to know. Ron would slaughter me," Harry mumbled as reply. He was way too happy to feel guilty at the moment.

All of a sudden, the door opened with a mild creaking, and Professor McGonagall entered the room.

"Mr. Potter!" she gasped by the sight of the Slytherin squeezed in between Harry and a bookshelf. The black-haired one from her house quickly took a step backwards. He noticed a vague stain of red on her cheeks. Either she'd been running.. or she was blushing again.

"Professor McGonagall!" Harry replied with equal amount of surprise.  
"I think this will do for detention," the lady mumbled, shoving each of them through the door. Draco could've sworn he heard her giggle as it closed. But professors didn't giggle.. did they? He felt electricity shoot through his arm as Harry grabbed his hand while strolling down the hallways, feeling sure that nobody was watching. He also felt pretty certainthat he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. And if he did, he knew _exactly_ what he'd dream about.

* * *

There we go, Harry + Draco = Looove. :D.. Please let me know what you think, I'll be super duper grateful (:!


	5. Chapter 5

"Harry! Wait, wait!" Ron shouted from somewhere in the distance behind him. Harry turned around impatiently, pretending to be reading the cover of his Potions book. Through the corner of his eye, he repeatedly glanced at the beautiful blond thirty steps away from him. Feeling rather disappointed that none of his discreet, alright; unnoticeable looks were returned, he finally smiled at his best friend, who'd caught up with him.

"Come on, don't want to be late. Snape'll use every excuse possible to give us detention," Ron panted.

Harry nearly rolled his eyes. _Who'd been late in the first place?_

As the two of them hastily paced towards the crypt, he felt a pair of silvery eyes staring at his back. Not that he could see them, but he definitely recognised the tingling feeling in his body. Turning around slightly, hoping that Ron wouldn't notice it, Harry returned Draco's gaze, unable to do anything but smile in his direction.

-

"I must say thatthese robes look awfully sexy," Dracochuckled, being partially hidden in the shadows. The light from the fireplace didn't reach the corner he was sitting in, and Harry couldn't see his beautiful face.

"Everybody's wearing these robes, Draco," he replied, slowly walking towards the headless body.

"I know, that's why it's so amazing that _you_ make them look bloody _hot_."

The Gryffindor reluctantly felt a smile parting his lips, as he reached the chair in which his secret lover had seated himself.  
"Looks comfortable," he noted; the blond boy's body was casually lounged in a casual position, one leg perching atop of the armrest.

"Could be comfier," the other one stated teasingly, pulling Harry down on top of him. Remaining in the same position for an impressively long moment, Draco finally sighed and gave in to the temptation, kissing the black haired boy's lips fiercely. The latter, rearranging his body in the chair, entangled his fingers in soft, blonde hair while tossing an arm around the pale neck.

"See, I told you; way more comfy," the young Malfoy chuckled as they broke apart. During the past two weeks since they'd begun secretly meeting up in the Room of Requirement, Harry had realised how much he loved hearing the other one chuckle; Draco never did anything but sneer when with anybody else, so he felt like the soft laughter belonged to _him._

He gently caressed the Slytherin's cheek while getting on his feet, grabbing his lover's collar and dragging him to the sofa.

It was around five o'clock when Harry entered the common room the following day, noticing that there were only two people already in.

As soon as he saw Hermione's brown hair cascading down her turned back, he knew that she was waiting for him. He was up for a horrible interrogation.

"Where've you been? Ron told me you snuck off in the middle of the night!" she squeaked as soon as she saw him. Sighing heavily, he threw his body in a chair, subconsciously imitating Draco's laid-back attitude.

"You'll ruin your back," Hermione noted sullenly. She wasn't one to be ignored when trying to tell people off.

"I've discovered something really strange," Harry said, abruptly changing the subject. Without letting his friend react and remember the actual conversation, he pulled forth the Marauder's Map along with a wand.

"Harry!" objected Hermione in surprise, "If someone sees us, we're in big trouble! Put that thing away immediately!"

"Oh come on, 'Mione, there's no one around," Ron defended his friend, moving closer so that he could see what the young Potter was about to show them.

"That's right. I can prove it," Harry smiled, whispering almost inaudibly, "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," and tapping the paper lightly with his wand.

"Oh Snitch," he muttered when realising that the dot he'd been seeking, **"**_**McGonagall",**_ was placed in it's own office and not where he'd hoped.  
"Will you stop saying-"  
"Nope."

Suddenly looking up, Ron poked Harry's shoulder. "Someone's on their way." All three of them heard the footsteps, swiftly padding down the stair from the girls' dormitories.

"Put it away, put it away!" Hermione whispered hysterically, almost panicking.

"Will you relax?" the black haired one replied. "Mischief managed," he mumbled, tugging away the Map within his robes.

"Ronny! There you are!" Lavender Brown's characteristically loud voice reached them immediately as the owner showed up in the room only a second later. Ron's face reddened slightly when his newly acquired girlfriend grabbed his hand and pulled him with her through the portrait hole, only briefly waving at Harry and Hermione. The two remaining Gryffindors simultaneously looked the other way.

"So, where were you last night? You know you're not allowed to sneak around that late, Harry!" The young Potter gritted his teeth.

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" he asked, received a headshake from the girl. "Well, _you_ know that I've got an Invisibility Cloak."  
"An Invisibility Cloak which makes you horribly confident. After all, it is possible that you'll get caught some day!" Hermione replied, disapprovingly waving her hands while speaking, as if to make her point that much more obvious.

"That's why I only sneak around at _night_," he jokingly defended himself. His friend didn't seem to find this attempt to be humorous anywhere near calming.

"You don't take it seriously, Harry, but it'll… Well, what if, let's say, Malfoy catches you?" she asked, her eyes flashing with victory.

_Me, Draco and an Invisibility Cloak_, Harry thought, hardly able to keep himself from smirking at the thought of what would probably happen if Malfoy _did_ catch him. But he couldn't reveal his secret, not even allow himself to give her a hint.

"You're right," he muttered, surprised with his own acting. "If it'll make you happy, I'll use my cloak with caution, yeah?"

"I guess it'll have to do," Hermione sighed, her shoulders giving away the fact that she was already relaxing a tad more.

"Right. See you at dinner," Harry said, stepping through the portrait hole and finding the way to his dorm.

"Harry, is 'ere any 'ance I 'ould 'orrow y'ur clo'k?" Ron asked, continuously stuffing more food in his mouth.

"I wonder how you stay that skinny," Hermione muttered from beside him, carefully slicing her pie.

"If you could borrow my clock?" Harry repeated, eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what had been said.

"No, no," Ron said and swallowed his food, "can I borrow your _Cloak?_"

"Cloak? As in…-?"

"Yeah, that one," the redhead laughed, putting his fork down on the table. Picking up a napkin instead, he carefully cleaned his face. Harry, who'd noticed the hope radiating from Ron's eyes, felt rather reluctant towards the idea of letting his friend borrow one of his most precious possessions. But he didn't want to let him down either, and, in the end, he nodded slowly.

"Thanks, mate!" Ron grinned, making some odd sign in the direction of Lavender Brown.

"Ron! You're not gonna _show_ her Harry's-"  
"Don't worry, 'Mione, I'm not stupid," replied the Weasley, getting up from hit seat. "'Course I'm not that stupid."

"We know," Harry hurried to say, hoping that the tension between Ron and Hermione, which had emerged when the first mentioned started dating Lavender, would soon disappear.

"Alright…" the redhead said angrily, straightening out his robes, "thanks, Harry." Then he turned around to follow his girlfriend, who'd already left the table.

Later that night, Harry realised that he'd screwed up. Badly. He was to meet Draco in less than fifteen minutes, and he could hardly wait. But as he lifted his body from his pretentious sleep and stretched it, he discovered that Ron had not returned to the dorm yet. He couldn't believe he hadn't figured out what his friend needed the cloak for until now. Sneaking back to the Gryffindor Tower late at night did indeed require Invisibility. So did _leaving_ the aforementioned tower, and Harry did _not_ have any. Draco would be pissed if he stood him up, for sure.

_Can't I just tell him what happened? _he asked himself desperately.

_He probably won't talk to me. He's pretty touchy __and__ it's our two-weeks anniversary. Merlin, this is bad._ To top it all, he now had only ten minutes to make it to the Room of Requirement. Fuck.


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright, I'm so so so so so sorry its been this long. I don't even know when I updated last, but it's a month at least and I'm sorry. Lost my inspiration.. . Well, here's chapter six, I hope you enjoy it XD**

* * *

As Harry silently left the Common Room in a t-shirt, his pants and a pair of slippers, he felt his heart pound. The young Potter had snuck out during the night so many times that he could hardly keep track of them, but never had without his Invisibility Cloak. Ron would have a lot to answer to in the morning.

Happy that he at least had the Marauder's Map, he unfolded said piece of parchment and whispered the password while gently tapping it. As soon as the labyrinth of black markings had unfolded itself, Harry decided that it would be safe to carry on.

"Young man," the Fat Lady said, her voice sounding sleepy and her eyes confirming the truth of this statement. "You should be aware that-"

Harry decided to pay her no further attention, hastily descending the stair leading to – or down from – the Gryffindor Tower.

Everything around Harry was quiet. Not as in peaceful silence or something similar, no, it felt as if he was starring in one of those scary Muggle movies, like he was being watched and something would jump forth from a bush at any given moment, only problem being that there were no bushes around him. But there were plenty of armours and statues...

He sped up, staring at the Map in his hands. There was nobody around, which only strengthened the feeling of anxiety. Why did it feel like he was being observed? Trying to forget the shivering down his spine, he turned around a corner. The hallway in front of Harry was as long as the one he'd just left, and the same uncomfortable darkness was clutching to every object within the Gryffindor's sight, making them blurry. _Just like people. Dementors, perhaps..._

What was wrong with him? Everybody knew that Harry Potter was brave, not to be frightened by mere silhouettes.

Abruptly, out of nothing appeared a stripe of golden light, shining through the crevice between the almost closed door and the unwelcoming, grey bricks that were the wall. His feet wouldn't take him any further; it was as if Harry _knew_ that he'd have to be here rather than meeting Draco in the Room of Requirement.

Had he at any time been doubting his guts, the low, sobbing voice that now floated through the door was enough to trigger the black-haired boy's curiosity.

"Murtle?" he whispered to himself, feeling a cold hand grasping his intestines. It was commonly known that Moaning Murtle, the ghost residing in the Girls' bathroom, would cry every once in a while. But this was not the Girls' Bathroom on the third floor, so why would Murtle be _here?_

Harry fumbled with the Map, but no one appeared to be in the room at all. Suddenly he clutched the sides of the parchment, almost slapping his forehead. He'd been turning it upside down all along _and _been looking at a completely different room. _Pure luck,_ he thought, realising that he could've run into practically anybody on his way down here. Turning it around, Harry quickly found the hallway he'd just passed through. Apparently he _was_ finding himself in front of another bathroom, but a very small one.

The other dot in the room seemed to be sitting by the sinks on it's own. _I should've guessed_, Harry thought as he lit his wand and read the name. **Draco Malfoy**. Who else could it have been? The realisation didn't catch him off guard at all, but it still surprised him enough to keep his attention glued to the black marking long enough for another small, black dot – one that he hadn't noticed before – dart through the hallway unnoticed.

Oh, she would have to let her master know. He loved things like these, loved to be the one catching the children, loved to be the one who punished them, oh yes. It would please him, and he'd show her how much he loved her. Perhaps even let her sleep in his bed. Not by the pillow of course, oh of course not. But he would scratch her on her back, oh, on that sensitive spot she loved, yes. The best feeling in the whole world. The foolish, black-haired boy, who she'd followed down the hallway for the past minutes, would merely serve as a way of her acquiring her owner's affection. If she was lucky, he would still be there when she returned with him.

Madam Norris' yellow eyes saw everything clearly as she dashed across the cold stone floor, feeling her claws scratch their surface.

"Draco?" Harry heard his own worried voice boom through the room while he tugged the Map inside his robes. He also heard Draco's terrified squeak and the loud thump on the floor. His lover had definitely been frightened.

"W-who's there?" the Slytherin asked, rapidly jumping to his feet and pulling forth his wand.

"It's Harry," he replied, slowly moving forward. Feeling the tension in his shoulders disappear, he knew that Draco had put away the weapon.

"Why're you sitting here?" he(seems as if Harry says it but just to be sure, is it?) asked, trying not to let his voice give away his frustration. Why was Draco not at the Room of Requirement where he was supposed to be five minutes ago?

Hypocrite, a low voice whispered in the back of his mind.

"Because the other kids bullied me and I fell. I've hurt my knee," Draco replied, and Harry creased his brows. It took the Gryffindor a few seconds to register the sarcasm dripping from the other one's voice.

"Yeah, life is harsh," he muttered, sliding across the floor to sit next to Draco, who responded with a snort.

They sat there for a moment, all of it reminding Harry a lot of the night in the Astronomy Tower. Then suddenly he realised that the sobs had ceased.

"You've stopped crying." he claimed.

"Well done," Draco replied sarcastically.

"I mean, why were you sad in the first place?" the Gryffindor mumbled, feeling like an idiot. Draco was not one to share his emotions.

"Because life's a bitch."

"Deep, truly deep."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Sure, then," Harry replied, wondering what to do of himself. "Wanna just sit here?" he asked.

"No, not really."

"Wanna go to the your dorm?"  
"...No, not really."

Letting out a heavy sigh, the Gryffindor got on his feet.  
"I'm not going to stay with you if you're just going to sulk, then." The insensitiveness of his words did not really matter to him, he'd experienced enough of Draco's bad mood during the last six years.

"Alright," his lover replied, also standing up now. "There's plenty of things to do in here besides sulking," he added, stepping closer to Harry.

A feeling of excitement shot through the young Potter's body, warming every part of it to the core. He was more than ready for what he supposed Draco was suggesting. Feeling an arm slide around his neck, he leaned towards his blond counterpart, giving in to the sensation completely. He gently touched the other one's back, guiding him toward the wall, and Draco followed his lead. But as they stood there - Draco smiling slightly and Harry tasting traces of the tears that earlier had been trailing down the Slytherin's lips and cheeks – a knocking on the door made them separate immediately.

"Well, well, well," a cold voice announced. "That is outrageous, unacceptable, disgusting..." Argus Filch looked like he was running out of words with which to describe his horror. "I'm certain that the Headmaster will not like this very much," he continued, rubbing his hands.

"Got no idea what you're talking about," Draco sneered, stepping further away from Harry.

"I believe you do."

"I don't."  
"Follow me," the man ordered, pointing at both of the boys with one hand.

Filch knocked on the door several times before a voice finally answered his eager pleading.

"Yes?" Albus Dumbledore opened the door, his silvery beard neatly tied to his belt and a red hat pulled down on top of his head. "What seems to be the problem, Argus?" he asked, his voice polite as ever.

"I found these two boys lurking around the hallways," Filch replied, grinning at the two teenagers. Clearly he was going to wait a bit before dropping the bomb.

"Is it not a little late to come visit me for such matters? Have you discussed it with Minerva?" A short moment, Harry was sure that he spotted a small smile playing around in the corner of Dumbledore's mouth, as if he knew something they didn't.

"I thought I'd go directly to you, Albus," Filch said, his eyes asking if they could enter the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore sighed but nodded, inviting them in with a gesture of his hand.

Harry was not at all too surprised when he noticed professor McGonagall's slippers hastily tugged in behind a bookshelf in the circular room, he just couldn't help hoping for professor Dumbledore that Filch would not see them. Too many secrets to his liking was already about to be revealed.

"Now, what is it that is so important?" the silver-bearded Headmaster asked, facing the three of them. Draco looked rather uncomfortable, staring helplessly at Harry.  
"You see, I found these two boys in the bathroom on seventh floor. Kissing, Albus. Surely, we cannot allow such monstrous acts to take place in Hogwarts!"

Dumbledore's eyes wandered from Harry's face to Draco's, eyes revealing a lot more depth and wisdom than what could be expected of one man alone.

"I choose to believe, Argus, that it is not what you love, but who. Should I decide to have relations with.. for arguments sake, let's say a teacher," Harry felt the powerful eyes rest on him, and he realised that Dumbledore already knew that Harry had figured out his secret, "would you then care to tell me if I was doing the right thing?"

Filch looked like he'd been punched as he discovered that Dumbledore wasn't going to have his back.  
"The world's a judgmental place, dear Argus," the older man continued to mutter, thoughtfully playing with a strand of his beard. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep. I have an appointment with professor Snape in the morning, and I will need my strength. He's not fond of getting up early." He chuckled slightly as he lead the three visitors toward the door.

Shortly after they'd left the room and were staring at the stair, they suddenly heard the thoughtful voice behind them once again.  
"Oh, and Argus, I think that these boys needs to be taught not to sneak around in the middle of the night. But please, do not hang them up at their thumbs. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, professor," Harry said, waving slightly.

Taught not the sneak around in the middle of the night. He had a strange feeling that Filch would do whatever in his power to punish them. But, if that's what it took to keep their secret safe. He gently squeezed Draco's hand as they descended the stairs, in return feeling a provocative hand at his left butt cheek.

* * *

**Please please review? Might prevent my inspiration from slipping away :D? (Devilish, I know.)**


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